Life for the Library
by NickyFox13
Summary: Netherlands gets a job at a library.


**A/N: Written for the ****_Two Or More Prompts Challenge_**** on the ****_Anime and Manga Challenges_**** forum!**

* * *

"Mornin' Belgium. Gotta tell ya something," Netherlands greeted one early morning to a still half-asleep Belgium, his sister. If her bedhead was any indication, she just rolled out of bed. She had thrown on the most comfortable, clothes possible to attend classes, which were ratty due to overuse. Belgium stayed at Netherlands' house to complete her degree at a local culinary school. Belgium, after a cup of strong coffee mixed with sugar and cream, tended to carry herself with her shoulders squared, her posture often plagued with a slouch and a perpetual, cat-like grin spread across her soft face.

Netherlands, somehow, was a morning person. How anyone could Belgium couldn't believe Netherlands was awake and functioning at a time when the birds began singing their songs at such a high pitch; if these birds weren't such an integral part of nature, she'd resent them for cheeriness when life shouldn't have to exist before nine-thirty am. Belgium wasn't a morning person, and she never would be. At least, not voluntarily. That explained her Without coffee and a half an hour to wake up,

The apartment itself was full of lavish decoration, which was primarily Belgium's idea. Netherlands wasn't the type to enjoy much decadence; his frugal nature kicked at times like this. Every window sill had blooming flowers planted in vivid and colorful pots. Posters of movies they both agreed they enjoyed personalized the otherwise plain, boring beige walls of the apartment they shared for the convenience of pooling together funds. Belgium looked out the window, whose panes were painted a light mint, to notice a cloudless blue sky became lit up by the warm golden rays of the sun. The sun shone with a sense of tranquility that didn't appear during the middle of the day. If Belgium didn't need to listen to Netherlands, then run off to fulfill her daily obligations of school, she would take time to appreciate the scenery outside of her window. The simplicity of the scenery made Belgium wish she didn't have other obligations as an adult and as a personification of a nation.

She realized that she noticed everything around her, yet almost forgot about her brother. Belgium had a tendency to act somewhat spacey. She couldn't help having her head in the clouds when her surroundings consumed her thoughts much more easily than reality did.

"Good morning, Netherlands. What do you need to tell me?" Belgium said, acting as if she hadn't zoned out for a minute or two. If Netherlands noticed, which he probably did because he was a perceptive guy, he didn't say anything. Belgium was grateful for his tact as she pulled up a chair to get comfortable and listen more intently.

"Got a job interview," Netherlands said, as he fixed up the plates left over from breakfast minutes ago, stacked upon the worn mahogany table. Netherlands' deep, rumbling baritone voice sounded even and unaffected to Belgium, as usual. His diction, clear despite the whispering tones of his often quiet voice, wasn't surprising to Belgium. He, unlike her, concealed his emotions well enough to hide behind a mask of cool indifference. She couldn't tell what was on his mind, if anything was on his mind at all. If she was in his position, she would've explained everything on her mind in great detail as she wore her heart on her sleeve.

Belgium raised a suspicious but curious eyebrow as he walked toward the kitchen.

"Oh?" Belgium's voice raised an octave without meaning to; she sat on her hands so she wouldn't wring them, which was a sign of her growing curiosity (she had a habit of showing excitement with her hands), "Where? When is it?" Netherlands shrugg

"This afternoon. At a library." Belgium couldn't begin to even to pretend to feign acceptance of his career pursuits. It seemed unsuited to him. The only thing that drew him to a library was a devotion to books that she hadn't seen in anyone else. He wasn't much of a people's person. His desire for privacy put people off.

"You'd make a shit librarian," Belgium said, roaring with laughter. She almost fell back in her chair, but caught herself before falling on the moss green carpeted floor that came with the apartment.

His stoic demeanor that made him seem intimidating and frightening instead of lovably aloof, which would make him seem unapproachable if he were to and his passive-aggressive, judgmental sneer made him seem like a particularly snarky, bitter villain ready to let insults tumble from his mouth. That was strike two against him. If he hid in shadows, darkened his wardrobe and accentuated the scar on his eye, he would certainly be cast in a film as the scariest villain of all: the one who remained a silent, deadly killer. Netherlands' eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"Can't even pretend to support me, can ya?" He asked, the unemotional mask cracking to reveal acid undertones. His sharp shoulders tensed so much that they connected with his ears. A pout spread across his angular face. Belgium noticed, as she rose from her seat and grabbed her backpack heavy with school supplies, that this was the most emotion he'd shown in a while. It seemed like he was acting like the humans he surrounded himself with while he was out; he wanted to seem only human in his pursuit to blend in with his citizens. As a nation inhabiting a human body, it only made sense that nations did their best to adapt to how their citizens acted.

"I'm not unsupportive," Belgium stuttered out, twirling a strand of blonde hair to keep herself focused, "But it's just...unexpected." Netherlands didn't respond right away, as if he needed to process the situation and come up with a suitable retort.

"I'm late. Be back tonight." He sauntered out of the room as if he had no obligations. A part of Belgium wished she could've controlled her emotions better. She knew his devotion to feeling useful and productive. He also loved books with all of his icy heart. But the silliness of the mental image she had in her head struck her first. She imagined him towering over young, innocent children who wanted a book and asking him to reach for something. One look from his cold eyes would send chills down these young children's spines, without understanding why Netherlands was so scary.

But Belgium had to admit that he seemed passionate about this. At least, as passionate as Netherlands got about something. He mentioned memorizing the Dewey decimal system to prepare in excitement. At night, she swore she saw him practicing how to shelf books as stretches to relax before bed. It would be a good thing, ultimately. As she ran out of the door to her own obligations, she hoped for the best for her brother.

* * *

Despite Netherlands' scary, unlikeable and stoic demeanor, Belgium was a little shocked but ultimately proud to say he received the job as a librarian. He needed a place to belong, as he often felt but wouldn't admit to loneliness. Being a nation graced and cursed with immortality took its toll, if one didn't prepare emotionally. So a job that could turn into a career, as Netherlands hoped, would ultimately be a good thing. A library meant Netherlands could interact with his citizens with ease and without suspicion of his nationhood. He could help others in an indirect way: by fulfilling their desire for knowledge, which Netherlands thought only had positive benefits. Belgium understood Netherlands' desire to pass time with a useful, emotionally satisfying job; the same reasons that Netherlands wanted to be a librarian was the reason why Belgium wanted to receive a degree in culinary arts.

"The woman conducting the interview liked my eyes," Netherlands said in an attempt to make a joke, but it came out matter of fact and a touch condescending instead. His eyes, when they weren't masked with lack of emotion, were a pretty shade of amber so it wasn't technically a lie to compliment them as the woman must have done. Belgium laughed anyway to make him feel better. He rarely cracked jokes, and this was the first one she heard in a long time.

"What did she ask you?" Belgium asked. She wanted to engage with her brother after a long day of classes and work interviews. Netherlands shrugged.

"Basic stuff. You know. What's on my resume, why I want this job."

"Why do you want this job anyway?"

"I like books. I wanna help people love books," It was a simple, almost expected response. Belgium knew he liked reading, and his entire room was dedicated to books. Shelves upon shelves were filled with books, from light hearted, contemporary reads that everyone knew about to the most obscure, first editions of classics citizens often talked about to make themselves seem more intellectual.

"When do you start?" Belgium didn't want to seem like she wanted him out of the apartment. Being alone was boring. Besides, the apartment creaked and buzzed with noises she never heard before.

"A few days," Netherlands shrugged as if he didn't care but Belgium knew he did. She sometimes wished she was more emotional about things he clearly cared about. But this was part of his personality. After all, she was overly emotional in comparison.

"Are you excited? I would be!" Netherlands shrugged, nonchalant and indifferent as ever. That was probably the most excited he'd ever admit to be. Belgium was okay with this, as much as she didn't want to be; she wanted more outward excitement. She jumped for joy and clapped her hands to show her excitement and to make up for her own lack of support initially. Netherlands looked at her with a confused stare, as if she was out of her mind. She grinned back at him, a silly grin that showed all of her teeth.

"Guess I am excited," Netherlands admitted, something Belgium didn't expect; she now wholly regretted laughing in his face. If he talked of his emotions, he must've been happy.

* * *

It felt natural for Belgium to stop by the library the first Monday of his job just to see her brother working. He wheeled around a cart full of books that needed shelving. When people approached him with questions, where many of the questions were repetitive and utterly stupid, he reacted with ease.

"What's the name of the author of the book I'm looking for?" This was a question asked all too frequently. Nobody gave a solid description of the book for Netherlands to work with to find the book. The worst part about this was that people tended to get upset when Netherlands couldn't find the book in question. In the end, which was lucky for the customer, Netherlands was well read enough that he could guess correctly which book people thought of.

The typical response to Netherlands helping out was along the lines of: "I'm so glad you knew what book I was thinking of. It's like you can read my mind. Which section was it again?" Netherlands was polite and helpful and even his coworkers, who were a random assortment of people who all seemed to get along for the most part and with minimal chaos.

Something about his demeanor changed, Belgium noticed as she saw him working from across the library. She pretended to look for a book in a corner where she could spy on her brother with ease. This was the most important change, in Belgium's mind. It was as if he was an entirely different person. The fact that he went by a human name, Lars Jansen, threw her off guard as well; that must've explained most of her troubles. [She went by Mathilde Peeters in public, so maybe her own human name threw off Netherlands in the same way his name threw her off. He seemed a touch less tense, and a touch calmer focusing his energy on something for six hours a day, four days a week. His broad yet angular shoulders seemed more relaxed, and smiles spread across his face much easier.

This was the purpose of life: fulfilment and enjoyment in the name of passion.


End file.
